


And Into the Sunset

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Strictly Ballroom (1992)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-15
Updated: 2004-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:13:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1633352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott finds out that there's no such thing as a fairy tale ending, but maybe it's not such a bad life anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Into the Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> Written for anenko

 

 

 

 

 

pairing: Scott/Fran  
words: 1409  
genre: drama, fluff  
disclaimer: "Strictly Ballroom" and its' characters are owned by Baz Luhrman and Miramax Films. This is a strictly not for profit fanwork written for entertainment purposes only. No profit has been made by its' creation or distribution and any copyright infringement is not intended.

To Scott Hastings, Australia's brightest dancing prodigy, dancing wasn't just an activity, it was all there was. His time revolved around dancing lessons, competitions, partners, and steps while a steady stream of music played in the background of his thoughts. Dancing was his lifeblood, the very first and last thing that mattered to him.

He never thought he'd see the day when dancing wasn't so all consuming, even scoffed at the possibility that he could have thought that it would happen. Dancing had, would, and would continue to always be the first thing that came to mind.

Even if he wanted to think of something else, his parents would have never let him. Well, his mother, Shirley, wouldn't have, at least. It was her way of keeping him under her thumb without appearing to be. No one could ever tell with his father, Doug, though; the older man wasn't exactly _meek_ at times, so if he objected to Scott's other interests, he would let his displeasure be known. In a typical stuttering, low voice, of course.

So when Scott found himself falling in love to the point where Fran was all he could think of, he didn't really know what to do. He _did_ love her; she was the one girl who had understood his drive to be different from all the rest. Not only that, but she stood up to him when his arrogance cowed most people into submission, drove him into working harder to follow his dream, and most of all, was there to catch him when he fell. Without her, he never would have been able to see his dream turn into reality at the Pan Pacific Grand Prix. Without her, he would have fallen short and been content to go back to the drab little role everyone else but her had expected him to play.

What exactly was the problem, then? He had his fairly tale ending, didn't he? Everything had worked out for the best, he got the girl of his dreams, and he'd shown everyone what he could do before riding off into the sunset. Yet, there was something wrong that neither he nor Fran had foreseen in their rush to the goal. Even Doug and Shirley, with their experience, couldn't have warned him of this feeling he had developed; that the fairy tale had ended and reality was ready to slam him onto his face.

Which was why no matter how many times Fran told him that she loved him and he smiled back before kissing her lips and giving her shoulders a squeeze, he couldn't get rid of that nagging feeling that he'd lost so much more than he should have. That his choice to give up dancing professionally just a year after the Grand Prix to get married and have a family was just following in the footsteps of his parents. As practical and time granting as it was, it just wasn't him. He wanted to be back in the spotlight, not live in his currently sedate life where time melded into a steady flow of working in Les` studio as an instructor, going home to be with Fran, and falling asleep before eleven.

That was why Scott found himself staring at his own face reflecting back at him in the bathroom mirror one particular Tuesday morning, trying to summon up the courage to tell Fran that he wanted to go back to competing. He tried out various phrases, trying to imagine how she might react to each one.

"Fran, I need to tell you something..." "Fran, there's something wrong..." "Fran, I'm just not happy here..." Nothing sounded right. He sighed, shook his head in disgust, and brought his hands up to comb through his hair before threading his fingers behind his head, cradling his skull in the palms of his hands. He had no idea how to make this work. Neither did his reflection as it stared back at him, as forlorn as he felt.

A gentle knock on the closed door startled him out of his thoughts and was soon followed with Fran calling his name. "Scott, are you alright in there?"

"I'm fine." Scott told her, unhooking his hands quickly and putting them to his sides as he turned away from the mirror. Maybe he'd tell her tomorrow. It didn't _have_ to be today, did it?

"You'll be late for work if you don't hurry and breakfast's getting cold without you."

"Alright. I'll be right down in a tad."

He reached for the doorknob, but as soon as his hand wrapped around it, hesitated to give it that final turn to open the door. For some reason, he could hear Fran's words echoing in his head, the same words she spat at him when he first turned her down as his partner. That he was nothing more than a "gutless wonder". Was she right? Was he gutless after all?

"I'm _not_ gutless," he muttered angrily, turning the knob and tugging the door open. "I'm not and I'll prove it. I'm going to go down to breakfast so I can tell her right now."

When Scott strode into the kitchen, he made his way to the table and paused. Something didn't feel right in the room, even thought it looked harmless enough. Fran was at the stove, dressed in a skirt and nice blouse to visit her grandmother, cooking kippers and sausages in a small frying pan. The thick, meaty aroma of the sausages mingled with the sharp, fishy tang of the little kippers as they cooked together, making Scott's stomach growl appreciatively.

At that, Fran turned her head to look over her left shoulder at him and her lips turned up into a friendly smile. "Sit down, Scott. Breakfast'll be done in a bit, but there's some Vegemite and toast already on the table."

"Thanks."

Scott sat down, bewildered as he saw all that was spread out on the table. There was fruit, the Vegemite and toast, fresh coffee, and even a plate of fried eggs. Why was Fran being so generous? Usually when he had time for breakfast, Fran would cook him up some sausages and have a bit of coffee for him to take with him, but today, it looked as if she had made a feast. That niggling feeling of unease was now a full grown suspicion that Fran was plying him in the hopes that he'd react well to something.

When she came over to the table, he waited to say something until she put down the plate of kippers and sausages she'd brought with her and sat down herself. Oddly enough, he found himself unable to speak at first, so he cleared his throat softly and tried again.

"This is...a really large breakfast you've made. Is there something the matter?"

Fran, who was in the middle of serving herself a portion of kippers and sausage, paused in the middle of what she was doing to look up at him in confusion. "Not at all. I just thought that since it was such a lovely day, I would make us a lovely breakfast to go with it. Why?"

"So there isn't something you wanted to tell me?" He pressed the subject further before taking a sip of coffee as he watched Fran finish serving herself. The taste of it was hot and thick on his tongue, reviving him better than the smell of its' nutty aroma had when he brought the cup to his lips.

Abruptly, Fran set her silverware on the table. A blush appeared on her cheeks as the tablecloth suddenly became more interesting to her than Scott's face or her breakfast. She mumbled something inaudible that gave Scott a horrid feeling of lead dropping into his stomach. Surely she hadn't said...

"Fran? I didn`t catch that."

Fran looked up at him and grinned mischievously. "I'm pregnant. We`re going to have a baby."

Scott was stunned. He managed to smile sincerely enough, but all he could think about were his dreams disappearing from between his fingers. A child would take up all their time and since Fran couldn't dance with him while pregnant-

"Scott, are you alright? You look pale. Is there something wrong?"

"A baby," he breathed out.

"Yes, a baby. *Our* baby!" Fran squealed, clapping her hands together.

"Our baby," Scott echoed. He looked up into Fran's face and found that she was positively *glowing* with joy. Well, maybe he wouldn't tell her after all. If that made him gutless, at least it was better than being heartless. He smiled again, proudly this time.

" _Our_ baby."

end.

 


End file.
